We’ve all heard it, and most of us have said it: "Honesty is the best policy." In our relationships, we hold this up as a foundational truth. It’s the bedrock of trust, the very thing that allows us to feel safe and truly seen by another person. We want partners who tell us the truth, and we strive to be partners who do the same.
But what happens when the truth is complicated? What about those moments when complete, unfiltered honesty feels less like a noble virtue and more like a weapon? We’ve all been on the receiving end of "I'm just being honest" right before a comment that stings. It begs the question: is the policy of complete honesty, at all times, truly the best one for the health of our relationships?
The Case for Absolute Honesty
There’s no denying the power and importance of a truthful foundation. When partners are consistently honest, they build a deep and resilient trust. This is the trust that says, “I can count on you,” “You won’t hide things from me,” and “The reality you present to me is the real reality.” This safety is what allows true intimacy to flourish.
Sharing our unfiltered selves—our fears, our mistakes, and our less-than-perfect truths—is how we allow someone to know us completely. Furthermore, addressing small issues with immediate honesty can prevent them from festering into much larger, more destructive problems down the line. In this view, withholding any truth, no matter how small, is a crack in the foundation that can threaten the entire structure.
When Honesty and Kindness Collide
And yet, we know it isn't always that simple. Imagine your partner comes home, excited about a new, slightly eccentric haircut they absolutely love. They turn to you, their eyes shining, and ask, "What do you think?" Your honest, first thought might be, "It's not my favorite."
What is the most loving and helpful response in that moment? Is it to deliver the unvarnished truth, potentially deflating their joy? Or is it to find the truth in their happiness and say, "I love how much you love it"?
This is where "brutal honesty" often enters the conversation—the practice of speaking a truth without regard for its impact. While it may be factually correct, it can also be careless, causing unnecessary pain. It prioritizes the speaker's need to state a fact over the well-being of the listener and the relationship itself. This forces us to ask a more difficult question: what is the purpose of our honesty?
A More Skillful Truth
Perhaps the goal isn't a rigid policy of absolute honesty, but a more flexible and compassionate practice of skillful honesty. The focus shifts from "Am I saying something that is 100% factual?" to "Is my communication helpful, kind, and aimed at building connection?"
Some traditions of contemplative philosophy suggest that before we speak, we should ask ourselves a few simple questions. This isn't about finding excuses to lie, but about developing wisdom in how we communicate.
Is it true? This remains the starting point. The goal is not to be dishonest.
Is it kind? Does this need to be said in this way, at this moment? Is there a gentler way to convey the message, or is silence the kindest option right now?
Is it helpful? Will sharing this information actually benefit my partner or our relationship? Is it a constructive piece of feedback that can lead to growth, or is it just me unburdening myself of a negative thought at their expense?
This framework doesn’t give us a license to deceive our partners about important things like infidelity or finances. Those are foundational truths that the relationship depends on. But it does give us the wisdom to navigate the vast gray area of daily life, where fleeting thoughts and minor critiques are concerned.
It suggests that the highest form of honesty is one that is filtered through love. It's the difference between saying, "You were so checked out at dinner tonight," and saying, "I felt a little disconnected from you tonight. Is everything okay?" Both are true, but only one builds a bridge instead of a wall.
Ultimately, the best policy might not be the one that simply dumps facts on the table. It might be the one that consistently asks: How can I use my words to care for this person and this relationship we are building together?